


More Than Brothers

by Charity_Angel



Series: Tales from Kamino (and beyond) [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Kid clones, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pre-Series, Serious Injuries, clone feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8350969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charity_Angel/pseuds/Charity_Angel
Summary: In which Cadet 6116 gets knocked flying by an older clone, and his entire life becomes a bit weird.ORHow Kix ended up on his back within two seconds of meeting Jesse...





	1. 559 Squad

**Author's Note:**

> So.... I was supposed to be writing something ridiculous about Rex teaching Anakin to dance. Inspiration flitted off, and I got bogged down in a whole bunch of Order 66 fics (you know who you are, you horrible (amazing) authors who broke my heart all over again). Clone Feels happened. I needed fluff, and cutesy baby!clone feels.
> 
> And Jesse wanted a piece of that action. Specifically, he wanted a piece of Kix, but that kind of goes without saying.
> 
>  **Fair Warning:** This _is_ going to end up as being **Jesse/Kix**. This means **clonecest** (explicit or behind closed doors, or something in between). If it's not your thing, you can feel free to not read. I won't be offended.  
>  (At the moment, though, it's two teenagers, one of whom hasn't really figured out the whole thing with sexuality. I'll warn you again when things take a turn for the romantic.)
> 
> Supernatural fans will likely recognise the filched title as referring to a fictitious(ish) Wincest website. It is entirely uncoincidental.

6116 supposed it was his own fault: he wasn’t exactly looking where he was going, after all. Roaming the halls with one’s head in a datapad was asking for trouble after all. But, in his defence, he wasn’t expecting anyone else to be paying as little attention as him.

The other cadet was from the older batch, judging by his height and the suggestion of stubble on his chin. At least, 6116 thought he was tall; it was somewhat difficult to tell from his position, on his ass on the floor. The clone reached out a hand, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and pulled 6116 back to his feet.

“Should watch where you’re walking, Tiny,” one of the guy’s squad-mates scolded him.

“C’mon, Six,” the one who still had hold of 6116’s hand said. “It’s not like we were paying much attention either. You okay, kid?”

6116 nodded sharply. “Yes, sir. I apologise for my lack of attention. I have a test tomorrow and I was trying to cram.”

The one who had knocked him over slung an arm over his shoulder, smiling. “It’s okay. We all know what that’s like. What are you studying?”

“Standard human immunology, and how we differ,” 6116 said.

“Kriffing hell, Seven – you knocked over a medic!” one of the others joked. There were a lot of brothers in this squad, 6116 realised, all seemingly the same age. Three, including his new-found friend, had brown hair rather than black, but that wasn’t altogether unusual: 6116 had a squad-mate like that too. But there was definitely something wrong, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Seven patted his shoulder, still smiling broadly. “We’ve got to take extra care of you, then. You sure you’re okay?”

6116 nodded again, feeling slightly more relaxed this time, now he knew he wasn’t getting into trouble. “Just my pride, and I’m sure that’ll recover.”

Seven chuckled. “Yeah, that’s true. Keep one eye on where you’re going, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” 6116 promised.

The squad continued on their way, and 6116 watched them. As they turned the corner, he finally realised what it was that had bugged him:

“Eleven?”

By the Force, he had just met 559 Squad. And everyone said they were a myth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in a completely headcanoned Kamino. I have read nothing of the additional Clone Wars material, so anything I know comes from the show itself or from the various fanfics I have read.
> 
> To me, it makes sense to organise the squads numerically when they are younger, while they are still finding their feet and honing their skills. Therefore, squads of ten max, with Zero being their de-facto leader (i.e. babyKix's squad leader would be 6110; a batchmate only a few minutes older than him), and One to Nine making up the rest of the squad. Kix would have been 'Six' to his own squad, and known by his full number to anyone else.
> 
> Shit can happen that reduces a squad ([A Rex By Any Other Name](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8310229) describes some ways), so most are anywhere between four and nine. I haven't decided quite how big 611 Squad is yet, but it's pretty small. Squads of three or less are slotted into other squads (and can be broken up to do this).
> 
> This will all become relevant at some point.


	2. Adoption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cadet 6116 accidentally gets himself adopted by eleven older brothers.

6116 looked up from his meal (his datapad, if he was honest) to find 559 Squad sitting down around him, filling the seats his own squad and the 622 had vacated some time earlier.

“5597,” he greeted the clone who sat opposite him. “My apologies again for earlier.”

5597 grinned and turned to address his squad-mates. “Our Tiny medic is extra smart,” he observed. “How’d you work that out?”

6116 frowned, trying to work out if 5597 was trying to catch him out. “There are eleven of you.”

The clone sat on 6116’s left elbowed him playfully. “You know, there’s not many people notice how many of us there are.”

“Most people see a squad this big and just assume there’s ten of us,” the one on his right said. He was eating left-handed, 6116 noticed. Now, that was an unusual genetic aberration: he had only ever _heard_ of left-handed brothers before. He and the one on 6116’s left were the other two brunets in the squad and, strange as it seemed, they appeared to be mirror images of each other.

The left-handed one snickered. “I think he’s figured us out, Besh.”

The other one – the one 6116’s left – chewed thoughtfully as he observed 6116. He swallowed politely before he spoke:

“I believe you’re right, Aurek.”

‘Aurek’ and ‘Besh’ were designations given to tube-mates; clones who developed in the same tube from a split embryo. There were seven such pairs in the whole facility, and it was truly ridiculous that one pair was in one of the few squads that had never yet lost a member. 559 Squad were charmed, clearly.

“So anyway, clever Tiny medic,” 5597 said, propping his chin on clasped hands and still smiling (did he ever stop?), “tell me: you’re 6116, right?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve got a friend in 342 Squad who has a medic squad-mate. I asked, because I thought I’d heard him mention that immunology thing. I’ve got two questions.”

6116 was sure he did, because if 5597 was curious enough and clever enough to find out who he was, he would definitely have at least two questions. 6116 decided to let him ask instead of just answering them outright.

“So, you’re only six months younger than us, but I’ve seen your batch-mates. They’re all taller than you.”

“Late growth spurt,” 6116 said, looking 5597 in the eye. “It happens.”

“Aw, that sucks,” 5597 said, his smile twisting into something understanding. “We mutants need to stick together. I mean, how many brunets are there, and we’re _still_ being watched by the Long-Necks in case we suddenly go berserk or something. But you’re younger than us, and 3429 says you’re in his class. How does that happen?”

6116 shrugged. “I learn fast.”

5597’s smile lit up again. “I knew you were a smart one. So where’s the rest of 611?”

6116 shrugged. “Probably doing some extra target practice. Or jerking off in the showers, whichever. They tend to let me study: they know it’s important, and I like doing it here – there’s always someone around.”

Besh’s hand shot out and stole the pad before 6116 could do anything about it.

“Since your squad isn’t here to look after you, we’re going to have to do it for them,” Aurek said with a smirk.

“Since you’re a medic, you should know that you need to eat for your brain to work,” Besh added, holding the pad just out of 6116’s reach. “You’ll get this back when you’ve finished your meal.”

6116 felt his eyes narrow. Besh offered him an innocent smile.

“He’s right,” 5597 said. “Food’s a good thing.”

6116 relented and scooped a forkful of his food up. It was lukewarm at best by now but, as much as he hated to admit it, the tube-mates were right – he did need to eat. If he kept forgetting, that growth spurt was never going to happen and all of his training would be useless. He’d be consigned to the kitchens, or janitorial. If he wasn’t picked apart by the Long-Necks to find out why he failed to meet their exacting standards.

There was immense satisfaction as he chewed on a second mouthful, and 559 Squad picked up a conversation easily, laughing and joking, and smiling when 6116 felt brave enough to join in.

He had the oddest feeling he had just been adopted by this group of older brothers. And he found he didn’t mind at all.


	3. Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which 6116's world changes forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, um... this went kind of dark and angsty all of a sudden. Sorry?
> 
> Some possibly triggery accident-related things in this chapter - read the end notes if you're worried, and only read up to where 611 Squad goes on their training exercise.
> 
> (I had to start naming them. The numbers were driving me crazy)

611 Squad was already small. They always had been, given that three of them had never made it past gestation. Four was decanted with the rest of them, but he never breathed. They had only ever been a squad of six, and that was okay. There were other squads that small: Lingo’s squad – 756 – was the same. Some of the older squads had fewer members.

Lingo and his Seven were like 6116 – they were well ahead of their squad-mates academically, and Six discovered a kinship with them that he didn’t seem to have with the rest of his own squad. 6112 (their leader since 6110 and 6111 were two of the four they had lost) always tried to make sure that Six was included in their activities but, having been identified as a medic so early in life, he had some different classes to them, and different interests.

Six was fascinated by the body, and how it all worked. He couldn’t learn enough when it came to medicine. The rest of 611 Squad were… different. They were soldiers through and through. They learned warfare and tactics, and spent longer in the firing range and the combat training rooms than Six did. They thrived on it, whereas Six could shoot accurately, and certainly understood the need to be able to defend himself and his brothers, but it would never define who he was like it did for most clones.

Because of the classes he took with the older batch, Six felt closer to them than he did his own squad-mates. Especially after he seemed to become the unofficial, twelfth, member of 559 Squad. They looked out for him more than 611 did, caught up with him every day in the mess and made sure he ate while they took his mind off his studies by learning about their day.

They called him Tiny, which he hated, but at least it was an improvement over his whole designation, since they already had a ‘Six’ – a brother who scowled all the time, and spent all his time seeming to disapprove of everything his cheerful squad did, but really had a heart of gold, and was the first to notice if something was wrong with one of his brothers.

Seven discovered that while he wasn’t like Byte – 7568 – in mentality (he was far too outgoing for that), he was pretty good with computers, and could slice in to just about anything. He used this dubious skill to get them all access to the Republic’s HoloNet. It only made sense, he reasoned, for them to understand the people and the worlds they were made to protect. The fact that his main goal was to find a name for 7567, the only unnamed member of 756 Squad, was beside the point.

It was kind of fun, the idea of a name that was just his, instead of ‘Six’, or ‘Tiny’ (a name his own squad had adopted, much to his displeasure). But to suddenly start having to call his friends by something different tripped him up somewhat. Especially Jesse, whose smile at having found a name lit their corner of the facility for days afterwards.

Things were going well: Six had found friends outside his squad, his studies were progressing, and he was managing to keep up with his squad-mates on training exercises.

They were running a new exercise, in a simulated forest, when everything went wrong. They had split into two teams to recon the area, and Two, Five, and Seven had run into a droid squadron. They should have been able to handle it, but Three, Six, and Nine were heading over to help them when the explosion happened.

Six blinked the spots from his eyes, and tried to ignore the ringing in his ears. He hadn’t been thrown far, and Three and Nine were getting to their feet beside him.

Six ran forward, towards where the blast had come from, trying all the time to summon his squad-mates on the comm. After the longest thirty seconds of his life, Five spoke over the comm, his voice thread with pain. Six was there before Five could even tell him what had happened, or how he was hurt, or even the statuses of the others.

The devastation was immediately apparent: Five was the furthest from the black, charred mess nearest to the now inactive droids, but it appeared that he had been thrown to where he lay: his uniform was as black as everything else, except where Five’s blood ran in thin rivulets from the various wounds across his torso and legs. A large piece of shrapnel had embedded itself in his right shoulder, and his eyes fixed themselves firmly on Six.

“Please, Tiny… help me?”

Six didn’t even know where to start: the chunk of duraplast would have to stay in place until the doctors arrived, but other than that he just didn’t know. One day, he would be trained in this, he would have a kit filled with bacta and analgesics and treatments, and a head filled with knowledge of how to treat these injuries. Where were the Long-Necks? They should be here by now, surely?

He knelt at his brother’s side and touched a hand to the side of his face, away from the shrapnel.

“Five, look at me.”

His eyes tracked well, but he gave no indication that he had heard Six. There was blood running from his ears, no doubt a result of the explosion. Six’s ears were still ringing; he could well imagine that Five and the others were much, much worse.

Movement at the corner of his eye alerted him that Three and Nine had arrived and were moving to the worst-affected area. Six stayed where he was – there wasn’t anything he could do here, but at least his presence was helpful to Five. And there was more movement behind him, just as Three gave a strangled cry.

“Target, Snipe, go help the others,” a brother’s voice said behind him; full of authority and cracking with the onset of puberty. A hand came down on his shoulder. “Tiny, you okay?”

Six turned just enough to see a flash of blond hair behind him. “I’m fine, Rex.” His own voice sounded unconvincing in his ears. “Find out where the kriffing doctors are, will you?”

“On it.” That was a softer voice. Lingo, Six suspected.

“Five, look at me.” Six said carefully, his attention back on his squad-mate, using his hands to emphasise his words. “You damaged your ears. Go slow, tell Rex what happened.”

“Not sure,” Five said, his eyes on Rex now rather than Six. He wasn’t panicking, fortunately. “We engaged the enemy, and…”

He broke off, hissing in pain as Six was assessing just how badly his abdominal wounds were. Burns, certainly – flashed so hot the fabric of his uniform had melted in – and possible shrapnel injuries too.

“Tell him I’m sorry,” Six said to Rex, who dutifully relayed the message.

“Two’s weapon exploded, sir,” Five concluded painfully. “Two and Seven… are they okay?”

Six glanced up at that, towards his squad-mates, over by the droids. Three and Nine were being led out of the sim chamber by an older pair of clones – Aurek and Besh, if he wasn’t mistaken. Both of his squad-mates looked numb with shock.

“Six?” Six called over to the clone standing at the line of inactive droids. “What’s the situation?”

5596 looked over to him, his nigh-permanent scowl softening into something that chilled Six’s blood. He shook his head. “Sorry, Tiny.”

The head of a crouched clone shot up. A brown head. Jesse. Jesse was here, his eyes finding Six’s. His expression was pinched, but he was there, and Six found that even through the chill of knowing that Two and Seven were dead, Jesse’s presence was something he could take comfort in. Jesse would always have his back and take care of him.

There was another flurry of movement behind him, and suddenly Rex was barking orders, instructing every able-bodied clone out and to let the doctors do their duty. It was Rex’s steady hand on his shoulder that helped Six summon the energy to stand, and Jesse’s, coming to rest on his other shoulder that encouraged him to take each and every step back through the fake forest to the exit.

Six felt his knees give out just before the door, and Jesse scooped him up, carrying him the rest of the way and setting him down on the bench outside, where 611 Squad had sat less than an hour ago, prepping for the exercise.

Jesse grabbed his hands. “Tiny, what’s this? Are you hurt?”

Six shook his head, staring at the red that stained both hands. “No, it’s not mine.”

Relief flooded Jesse’s face, and he pulled Six into him, hugging him hard. “Thank the Force. You worried me for a moment.”

Six felt something drain from him. Jesse was there and, no matter what had happened, they were both all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6115 suffers some fairly gruesome injuries during the training exercise. 6112 and 6117 are killed in the same accident. Everything happens off-screen, but 6115 is seen, and is still talking to Kix by the time he is taken away. Rex and Jesse invade before the Kaminoans get there, and are there to help Kix as everything sinks in.


	4. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which 6116 and Jesse deal with the events of the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing like the last chapter here, but it's worth noting that not everything is sunshine and rainbows. There is some frank thought about the fate of 6115 that may upset some readers of a more sensitive disposition. If you're worried, when Five gets mentioned (pretty sure I was careful and only mentioned 6115, and not 5995 too), skip the next paragraph entirely, then come back in.
> 
> There is also the beginnings of _something_ between Kix and Jesse. It's not sexual. It's not even romantic, not really. But this is where it begins, so if it's not your thing, turn back now.

Jesse stayed by Six’s side as he was checked over by the medics, declared to be physically sound, and discharged unceremoniously from their care. Then, he was hauled off to the showers. Jesse stripped him carefully, undressed himself, and washed gently washed the blood and soot from them both.

Six shivered when the warm water was switched off, and only blinked when Jesse dried him off. He came back to his senses more when Jesse pulled a dry towel around them both, pulling Six into his lap. By that time, the rest of 559 Squad had joined them, and most touched a comforting hand to his head or shoulder as they headed under the spray to clean themselves off.

“Why were you there?”

It probably wasn’t the most important question, but it seemed important. And Jesse probably couldn’t answer the most crucial ones anyway.

“We were in the next sim room over,” Jesse said, running a hand over Six’s short hair soothingly. “We heard the explosion, and our sim stopped just like yours did. Named Squad were the other side of you from us, but they hadn’t started yet; that’s why they got there before us.”

“This is what it’s going to be like, isn’t it?” Six asked, and he hated how young the question made him sound. “When we’re grown.”

Jesse sighed. “Yeah, I think so. It blows, but this is what we were made for. You okay?”

Six found himself nodding, and it wasn’t a lie. “I should have been able to do more for Five. I’m a _medic_ , for kriff’s sake. That’s what we should be learning, not how to treat someone for kriffing Xyllian Fever! Burns and shrapnel and explosions – that’s what’s important.”

Jesse made a noise that made it sound like he agreed. But then he said: “Hey, you told me enough about Xyllian Fever that I think I’d like you to be able to treat it.”

Six surprised himself with a huff of laughter. Jesse always seemed to know what to say to make him feel better, whether he was stressed, or feeling lonely, or right now, facing the loss of his squad-mates. And, if Five didn’t make it, 611 would be disbanded: any squad smaller than four was folded into another. Or another two or three squads, if that was what was needed.

And he knew, in his heart, that Five probably wouldn’t live. Even though he probably would survive his injuries, with support, his hearing would probably be compromised by scar tissue in his ear drums, and his gut probably wouldn’t cope with field rations. His shoulder might never have the same strength in it, even if he avoided nerve damage (Six hadn’t even thought to check, and that _was_ something he knew about). And that was if the external scarring didn’t restrict his movement, and there was no damage to his sight from the bright flash. (There wasn’t, Six knew, because he had been lip-reading just fine.) But it was just too many ‘if’s for the Kaminoans: it was more efficient to terminate Five than to spend months on rehabilitation that might not ever bring him back to true battle fitness.

“It’s not the most important thing,” Six argued. “I’m supposed to be training to be a battlefield medic: I should be treating wounds, stopping someone from bleeding out. Relieving someone’s pain.”

“Hey, Tiny, you’ll do just fine.” That was Zero, emerging from the water and reaching for his towel. “I’d want you by my side if I was injured. You were so good with 6115, keeping him calm.”

“And we know you,” Besh added as he joined them, towelling off his hair. “You’ll find out exactly what you need to know so you don’t get caught out again.”

“We’ll find you in the Mess at all hours, studying emergency medicine,” Aurek said, mirroring his tube-mate as ever. “Probably starving yourself again. You know you’re never going to grow if you do that, right?”

Six glared at him, but that was nothing new: Aurek enjoyed teasing Six about his height a little too much. It was kind of nice to have Aurek treat him the same as he ever did. It made him feel like nothing was changing, even though it was.

“Here,” Three said, catching him by surprise as something white flew his way. “I snagged one of these for you.”

It was a bundle of clothing in his size. He was nearly seven, but still the same uniform size as the five-and-a-half-year-olds. Three must have had to go out of his way to find something the right size for him.

Six swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Well,” 5596 said gruffly, slotting his feet into his own underwear, “it would be funny, watching you trip over the legs of one of Jesse’s, but Four reckoned you’d be more comfortable in something that fitted.”

Six sighed and slid from Jesse’s lap.

“Thank you all,” he said. “Although I’m sure Aurek would have preferred to see me tripping over too.”

Aurek smirked. “Well, if you will forget to eat…”

 

.oOo.

 

They finished dressing, and 559 took him back to their barracks room. It was no different to any other set of barracks, with five pairs of bunks set around the room. All of the afternoon’s sims had been cancelled, so they had some free time on their hands.

No-one was particularly enthusiastic about doing anything: it was the first time for either squad that they had lost someone, and the reality of their life was beginning to sink in.

Aurek and Besh tried to interest everyone in a game of sabaac – the squad had finally got enough flimsi together to make a deck of cards, and they had spent weeks learning the rules that Jesse had found during his forays on the Net. Most of the squad joined in, but Six just didn’t feel like it. Jesse bowed out too, and the two of them curled up on his bunk. At first, Six watched the game, trying to process the rules and the different hands that Jesse was trying to describe softly to him, but before too long his eyes were heavy, and it was just harder to open them after blinking than it was to leave them closed.

Here, in a room he had never been in before, Six was safe and secure, surrounded by brothers who cared for him and had looked out for him for no reason whatsoever. He wondered if this was that feeling of aliit that their instructors had told them all about during their lessons in Mando’a. And, with Jesse’s long body pressed against his back, and an arm draped across his waist, Six slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translation - _aliit_ = family / clan


	5. Debrief (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the cadets meet the Chief Instructor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got away from me a bit, and has therefore been split. This first half is still a little long, but the boys insisted on introducing themselves properly. It might get a little long-winded, but I decided to leave it because I'm very conscious that I have eighteen original characters with few distinguishing features who are appearing fairly regularly.

Six awoke to the vehement but whispered argument over his head.

“He’d be better off getting some food,” someone was saying. “He’ll get himself terminated if he doesn’t grow some soon.”

“Just let him sleep, Zero.” That was Jesse, from behind him, his arm tightening over Six, pulling him close. “It’s obviously what he needs right now.”

Why was Jesse in his bunk? That made no sense. And the acoustics were off slightly, as if he were on the bottom bunk instead of the top.

“Jesse…”

And that voice seemed older than Two, or any of his squad. And his squad didn’t even have a Zero.

Oh, _kriff_.

“Point’s moot,” he said, his voice surprisingly even, although he didn’t dare open his eyes, not just yet. “I’m awake.”

Jesse seemed to deflate against his back. “Sorry, Tiny,” he said softly. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“It’s evening mealtime,” Zero said as Six sat up. Jesse’s hand slid down to rest on his thigh; something that Six felt probably should be uncomfortable – his squad-mates would certainly find it so – but wasn’t. “You should eat.”

Six found himself nodding. Because he actually was hungry, for once.

Jesse seemed reluctant to be apart from him, and had his arm across Six’s shoulders all the way to the Mess hall. It reminded Six that no matter what had happened, he wouldn’t be alone.

“Who won the game?” he asked, suddenly remembering that Jesse’s brothers had been playing some game from the Republic when he had fallen asleep.

“Aurek,” 5596 rumbled, as surly as ever. “But I’m pretty sure he cheated.”

“How do you cheat at a game we’re all learning together?” Besh asked, reasonably.

“Because we know your tube-mate?” Eight suggested dryly.

Six looked up at Aurek, who winked back at him. So he _had_ cheated: Six would have to pay more attention next time they played, and work out how he had done it.

He grabbed his meal with the rest of the squad, and they joined up with Named Squad and what remained of 611. The mood was somewhat subdued, so 559 took it upon themselves to tell the younger clones about the sabaac game while encouraging everyone to eat properly.

Four had the cards in his pocket, and he spread them across the table so that everyone could see what they looked like, to give them an idea of what hands looked like.

Target, Snipe, and Dent were all paying rapt attention, and 6113 and 6119 both seemed interested too. Byte looked confused by the whole idea. Lingo appeared to be trying to dissect the game rather than learn it. Rex was shaking his fair head as if disapproving of their frivolous use of time and resources, but Six knew he was taking in everything and would probably wipe the floor with even Aurek by his second game. Without resorting to cheating.

There was a frantic scramble to gather them when Rex’s sharp eyes caught sight of someone who could only be Jango Fett himself at the door. Six had never seen him before, but he looked like an older version of them. And because the universe seemed to hate Six’s squad today, he headed for their table. By the time he reached them, there was one card left, half tucked under Dent’s tray, and no-one dared try to rescue it.

“Cadets,” he said briskly by way of greeting.

Six wasn’t sure of the etiquette here: they were on down-time, in the Mess. Rank was dispensed of in here, for the most part. But their instructors never came in, and Six was fairly certain that their progenitor outranked even them.

Most of them, Six included, were halfway to their feet before they were waved back down.

“I hoped I would find you all together. You _are_ Squads 559, 611, and 756, I assume?”

“Yes sir,” Zero and Rex said briskly. Six found himself answering for 611 when Three didn’t. Jango met his eyes briefly, with a look of what he thought might be approval before he turned to the table as a whole.

“I have been reviewing the recordings of the incident earlier,” he said. “I would like to go over them with you all after you’ve eaten.”

“Yes sir.”

Six knew it had to happen: a debrief always happened after a sim. This had only been postponed by what had happened. And it might give him some answers, but he still wasn’t sure he wanted a performance review of this sim.

Jango seemed to sense his reluctance and stepped slightly along the table to rest a hand on his shoulder. Six didn’t know what to make of that. When his brothers touched him, it was friendly and affectionate; when it was the Long-Necks, it was cold and impersonal; their instructors were harsh and demanding. This was more like his brothers than anything else, but that didn’t seem to fit in his head. Jango Fett might look like them, but he wasn’t one of them. He was an instructor – he took some of the classes with the command cadets, like Cody. It didn’t make sense.

Unfortunately, in moving, Jango caught sight of the stray card, and he leaned over to pluck it up.

There was a deathly hush.

“Nice artwork,” he said eventually, the corners of his eyes softening into a smile. “Who’s the artist?”

“Um, me, sir,” Four said. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’ve got an eye for detail, cadet. Make sure you don’t lose that. Meet me in Briefing Room One when you’re finished.”

 

.oOo.

 

They bolted the rest of their food. Six got elbows in both sides, from both Jesse and Eight, for not eating, and kicked in the shin by Five – by 5595 – across the table for the same reason. But his stomach suddenly felt leaden, and they would have been there all night had they waited for him to eat.

His food wasn’t wasted – Aurek and Besh battled with Dent for the tastiest morsels. And, on the way to the Briefing Room, Lingo ended up explaining the origins of Dent’s name to 559 Squad while Aurek scowled at the tooth-marks on his arm and Besh laughed at him and told him he deserved it.

Once there, they filed in and stood to attention in front of their seats. Briefing One was a larger room, meant for multi-squad sims that no-one had yet embarked on. They filled the first two of the five rows, with Zero holding his squad back to let the younger (shorter) cadets fill the front row. It was interesting to see how they arranged themselves, because normally a squad formed up in numerical order, from Nine to Zero. Six wasn’t surprised to see that Rex was on the end, with Lingo taking the standard One position. 6113 and 6119 were slipped in effortlessly, with 6119 in his proper position, as he would be in 611, and 6113 between Snipe and Target. It was, possibly, an effort at normality.

Six couldn’t say he was any better: he had slid into 559 between Jesse and 5596 like he belonged there. Jesse took the first seat on the second row – 5599 stood next to Rex, with 5598 next to him to fill up the front. That it was something that hadn’t even been discussed, Six realised that they were used to being split in briefings – every room that Six knew of was made for ten. Even their barracks room, he suddenly realised, only had ten bunks. He had never asked before – how did they make it work?

He got an answer to the briefing question almost immediately, when One patted his hand against his thigh, highlighting the empty seat next to him, and Zero suppressed a smile. Clearly, in most briefings, Zero stood so that his squad-mates could all have a seat.

Jango’s eyes travelled across the two ranks, immediately noting that Six was clearly out of place among the older squad. He looked out of place in his own anyway because of his height, but it was emphasised more now, stood between Jesse and 5596.

“At ease, Cadets,” Jango said. “Please, sit down.”

They did so, but no-one relaxed. Six resisted the urge to shuffle closer to Jesse.

Jango sighed. “Please boys; no-one is in trouble. I’m sure you all want answers about what happened, and your instructors and I are curious about some things too.

“Before we begin, I think it would be polite for everyone to be introduced. I am fairly certain you all know who I am, but I have never met any of you before today. A few stand out, clearly, but when you interact with civilians, or your jetiise officers when you are of age, they will probably want to know who you are. It’s considered polite. So, I am Jango Fett, the chief instructor.”

Zero started them off, reciting his designation crisply. One followed suit. Then the fun started.

“Cadet 5592-Aurek, sir. I just go by Aurek.”

“Cadet 5592-Besh, sir.”

Jango seemed amused. “You’re the mirror twins, right?”

Everyone seemed startled. Six was impressed that he knew that much about the clones that weren’t part of his command school. But, he reasoned, they _were_ unique, even among the seven sets of tube-mates, because they were mirrors rather than straight carbon copies.

“Yes, sir,” Besh replied. “But Aurek makes up for being left-handed by being an ass.”

Jango was definitely amused – he chuckled. “Well, at least he comes by that honestly.”

Three followed suit, as did Four.

“The artist?”

Four smiled. “Yes, sir.”

“Keep those cards safe, cadet, and I’ll come by and teach you how to play _properly_ sometime. Rules found on the Net will only get you so far.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.”

Five, then:

“Cadet 5596, sir,” came the rumble from beside Six.

“Cadet 6116, sir.”

He was kind of proud of how level he managed to sound.

“The medic.” It wasn’t even a question with him. He supposed he stood out somewhat, and had been directly involved in the failed sim.

“Yes sir.”

“You did well today, cadet.”

Six had to look away. Everyone kept saying that, but he hadn’t done anything, not really. He didn’t want to be praised just for keeping his head, because no-one else had really panicked either.

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” Jango said, his voice softer now. “Don’t let it eat you up.”

He forced himself to speak. “No, sir. Thank you.”

Jesse grabbed his hand and squeezed it even as he spoke. “Cadet 5597. Jesse, sir.”

There was another smile from their progenitor. “Jesse, huh? Fair enough. I guess I should start getting used to names. It’s about damn time, if you ask me.”

Jesse beamed. Six didn’t think he would have cared too much if Jango hadn’t acknowledged his name, but it was something that was important to him. His name was the only thing Jesse had; something that made him just that little bit different to everyone else. Something that made him stand out from every other ‘Seven’ in the facility.

And Six was suddenly very glad that 559 had started off the round of introductions, because it would give Named Squad a bit more confidence to give their own names.

Eight and Nine, at the start of the next row, were straightforward enough. Then:

“Cadet 7567, sir. Rex.”

Jango didn’t look surprised by the misplaced number (Rex did stand out somewhat; Jango probably already knew who he was), but the name did seem to put him off his stride somewhat. He blinked before he spoke:

“You appear to be in the wrong position, Rex.”

Rex said nothing, but Snipe did. “Rex is our squad leader: he doesn’t need a number for that.”

That drew a curious look from Jango.

“Sir,” Lingo said, much more politely, “my ‘zero’ designation is worthless when someone is as naturally gifted as Rex. I stepped aside.”

Jango appeared somewhat impressed. “Understood. That is at least one of my questions answered. So, I assume you are Cadet 7560, then?”

“Lingo, sir.”

Understanding dawned, and his gaze flicked back to Rex. “Oh! So would you be this ‘Named Squad’ I have heard my cadets discussing?”

“Yes, sir,” Rex replied.

“My cadets seem to think very highly of you all. I’d be honoured to meet you under any other circumstances.”

Rex twitched. “Likewise, sir.”

Jango shook his head slightly, as if he were trying to fathom Rex out. There wasn’t enough time in the galaxy to work Rex out: the poor guy wasn’t going to manage in one briefing. He certainly wasn’t going to crack that perfect exterior in _this_ briefing.

He turned his gaze to the next clone in line, who obliged:

“Cadet 7561, sir. Dent.”

Jango looked puzzled by that.

“He bites,” Aurek announced. “Hard. Lingo says it’s an Aurebesh word for tooth.”

Jango laughed again. “You boys have certainly been creative. I like your spirit, Dent.”

“Thank you. Sir.”

“Cadet 7563, sir. Target.”

“A well-deserved name, I hear. Best marksman of your batch.”

“Yessir.”

“Have you tried two pistols yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Give it a go – I think you’ll like it.”

There was a bit of a laugh from Aurek. “Yeah, you probably will,” he chimed in. “I’ve got to go for two – it’s the only way the Long-Necks would let me stay. They’re not so keen on us lefties.”

“Two weapons gives excellent scope for both defence and attack,” Jango said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Aurek?”

Six could feel the smirk from where he was sat. “Definitely.”

The mood in the room was lifting, which was possibly just as well, because Jango’s eyes now fell on the clone to Target’s left.

“Cadet 6113, sir.” Three had never been quite as confident as some of the others – he had allowed their more boisterous squad-mates to carry him. But Six had never realised just how big the issue was until he had failed to speak up in the Mess.

“How are you holding up, cadet?”

Three shrugged.

“Looks to me like you’ve got lots of brothers looking out for you,” Jango said kindly.

“Yes, sir,” Three replied. “I guess. But…”

“Sir?” That was Rex. “Are you implying that you’re folding 611 into 756?”

Jango stepped back a little, and addressed the front row in particular, but made sure that he caught Six’s eye too.

“Nothing is certain yet,” he said. “Cadet 6115 is still with the doctors, being assessed. However, in the short term, I see no harm in proceeding temporarily as if that were the case. Your squad appears to have stepped up in welcoming some extra brothers.”

“We do what we can,” Rex replied. Six noticed immediately that he missed off the ‘sir’, and Jango seemed to notice it too. He said nothing about it.

“Good man, Rex. Everyone needs to pull together in circumstances like these. I’m pleased and proud to see that you’re doing that. Who’s next?”

“7564, sir. Snipe.”

“You scored some of the best long-range rifle scores across both batches, cadet,” Jango observed. “A remarkable achievement.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Cadet 7568, sir. Byte.”

“Not like Dent, I assume? A slicer?”

“I prefer programming, sir,” Byte replied, readily enough, “but I can keep up with Jesse when it comes to slicing.”

“You wish,” Jesse said, grinning.

Byte turned in his chair to glance at Jesse, who shrugged. “Can’t help it if it’s true.”

Byte rolled his eyes spectacularly and turned back to Jango, who was openly laughing.

“You boys have no idea how surreal it is for me to see you argue. And how about you, 6119?” He sobered impressively as he turned to the last cadet. “How are you holding up?”

“Not great,” Nine admitted. “But I think I’ll get there, sir. As you say, I have a lot of brothers to help me.”

“Good man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language-y things:
> 
>  _Jetiise_ \- Mando'a word for Jedi (specifically, plural Jedi. Singular is _jetii_ )
> 
> Because I haven't mentioned it before (not that anyone's asked yet):-  
> Aurek - first letter of the Aurebesh alphabet, the equivalent of 'A'  
> Besh - second letter, corresponding to a 'B'
> 
> Aurek and Besh, because they're twins, they grew in the same tube and therefore share the same number. They get an 'A' and 'B' added to distinguish which was removed first.
> 
> Linguistically, Aurebesh is a precursor language to Galactic Basic. I therefore, when rationalising Rex's name, decided that it would be very, very heavily Latin-influenced. Hence I found a good name for Dent too.


	6. Debrief (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the actual debriefing occurs.

The chief instructor, their genetic template, stood before them all, his eyes sweeping the two rows of cadets – two squads, and the remnants of 611.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re all being debriefed together, rather than squad by squad. Most of that has been discussed already, to be honest: you have all encountered something today that your fellow cadets haven’t yet. You’ve probably noticed that some of you are holding up better than others. But, watching you three squads interact, and how 611 is integrated within you, you’re all doing the right things already; supporting those brothers who need it. Well done.

“We will need to watch the footage back. This is likely to be fairly traumatic for 611 Squad, so those brothers around them, just be there, like you’re already doing.”

He pressed a control, and playback commenced. It was 611 Squad, before they even went into the sim chamber. They were laughing as they checked over their weapons, ensuring that everything was shipshape with their equipment. Six’s eyes were on Two’s rifle, just like he knew everyone else’s were. It all looked fine to him, but he was surrounded by brothers who had more experience.

“It’s _fine_ ,” Jesse whispered in his ear without prompting. “Looks normal. Kriff, I thought…”

Playback paused abruptly.

“Something to share, Jesse?”

It didn’t sound particularly harsh.

“I…” Jesse didn’t usually hesitate with anything. “Sorry, sir. It’s just, I know that Tiny doesn’t spend as long on the ranges as us. I was telling him that Two’s weapon looks shipshape. I know we both thought he might have missed something.”

Jango’s eyes swept the room. “Was everyone of the same opinion?”

There were nods, and mutterings of “Yes, sir” from the cadets.

“This is why it’s important to have the visual recording for such debriefs,” Jango said. “It’s why I’m insisting upon it now. Jesse is right – there is absolutely no appearance of a fault with Cadet 6112’s weapon. We’ve all checked the footage very carefully.”

The playback resumed, and the six cadets formed up, ready to enter the chamber. Six realised just how much he stood out – a head shorter than even his own squad. No wonder they called him ‘Tiny’. But he could and did keep up with them as they entered the chamber, just as he always had.

Suddenly, the video jumped, the screen splitting so that there were two sets of three clones. Playback paused again.

“I’m not going to make you sit through an hour of footage of them doing exactly what they should be doing,” Jango said. “As you can see, 611 have split at this point: Cadets 6112, 6115, and 6117 are the team on the left; 6113, 6116, and 6119 are on the right. 6119’s team are still scouting. 6112’s team are about to engage the enemy.”

Six watched as they did everything they were supposed to: Seven spotted the enemy droids, and signalled to Two and Five. They formed up, taking cover behind a fallen tree, and co-ordinated their attack.

Two pulled the trigger of his weapon, and the screen flared. White mixed with yellow and orange, and Five was thrown away, coming to land where Six had found him.

On the right hand side, Six and his team-mates had been caught in the wake, but were already finding their feet. Six was moving, sparing a quick glance for his brothers before running through the trees, much faster than Three or Nine.

“You’re _fast_ ,” Jesse said in his ear. “Look at you go.”

The video paused once more when Six reached Five.

“6116, what were you feeling at that time?”

“Panic,” he admitted, holding Jesse’s hand tightly. “Frustration.”

“Why?”

Six met Jango’s eyes levelly. “Because I’m supposed to be a medic. I should have been able to help Five, instead of wasting my time learning about Rylothian Flu and Pantoran Swelling Sickness.”

There was a flicker of amusement somewhere in the depths of Jango’s eyes. None of it showed on his face. “Reasonable. None of us anticipated you needing combat field training so early. We’ve all failed you there, 6116. The medic training programme is being reassessed as we speak.”

Six let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re going to be awesome, Tiny,” 5596 rumbled at him, his gruff voice carrying easily through the whole room. “Look at you up there – you’re so calm under pressure.”

“Most of you were,” Jango added. “Keeping a level head in the face of destruction and wounded troopers could well save your life some day. And the lives of others.

“We’re going to bring in the other squads now. I just wanted to ask that question first.”

The screen split again, to show 559’s training exercise, and Named Squad prepping for theirs. 559’s vid ran first, the sound of the explosion clear. The three units they had split into all ducked into cover, before Zero’s voice came over their comm:

“That wasn’t in here. Something’s wrong – the droids have shut down.”

“We helping?” Six thought that was Aurek.

“Course we are.” Jesse.

“Move out,” Zero instructed. “Form up at the door, and we’ll deal with whatever we find.”

All eleven of them ran, looking impressive as they reformed their squad and Zero directed them cautiously into the corridor beyond.

They paused, and 756 took over. They all turned in unison as the explosion happened. Rex moved almost instinctively, and the other five formed up on him, their weapons at the ready. Byte had the door open without prompting, and they headed into the doomed sim.

The playbacks all synced up eventually. Six watched Rex arrived behind him and ordered his brothers to go help Three and Nine. From what Six could see of them, it was a retrieval rather than help – Three and Nine were statues, staring at two blackened bodies. What was left of Two wasn’t pretty at all.

Target and Snipe noted the stationary droids before they moved in. Named Squad were pretty grim-faced as they assessed for themselves that something had gone badly, badly wrong. And they worked with 559 when they arrived and got the ambulatory cadets out of the way so that the doctors didn’t have to worry about them.

“We still don’t know what happened with 6112’s weapon,” Jango said as everything ended. “The wreckage is being assessed, but with so little left, we may never know. However, as Jesse pointed out earlier, he did nothing wrong. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“In battle, shit happens. Accidents can happen. It’s how we deal with it that can make the difference. Rex, Zero, your decisions to help your fellow cadets might be questionable in the field, if you were under fire yourselves, but today they should be applauded. Rex, you had no other concerns because you weren’t in the sim. Zero, you assessed that your own sim had shut down, thereby neutralising the danger to your own squad. You thought about them first, and that will make all the difference in the field.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Those of you who don’t feel like you did your best; maybe you froze, maybe you felt you panicked, or did something you shouldn’t have – this experience is something we never intended for such young cadets. Sure, we have off-world missions planned where you might face unsimulated danger from wildlife, but even 559 weren’t due to be included in those for six months yet.

“You’re all strong enough to move on from this. Learn from it. In a way, you have an advantage over some of the other cadets: you all know how you react in a genuine emergency. Use that knowledge wisely, and you can become better soldiers because of it. Lean on your brothers, if that’s what you need. There is no shame in that. Be vigilant; keep an eye on your brothers for behaviour that’s out of character. Some people try to repress their emotions when something like this happens, and that’s not healthy. Don’t let them. Zero, Rex, watch out for your men, and you can come to me if you need any advice.”

Jango paused, and surveyed the room again.

“I know none of you will be happy about any of this, but does anyone have questions at this moment?”

There was silence.

“All right, then. Thank you for your time this evening, men. You’re dismissed.”

Everyone stood, and Named Squad filed out. Zero hesitated.

“Sir?”

“Yes, 5590?”

“It’s Tiny, sir. He’s one of us. He’s already studying with our batch instead of his own, and he’s the top of his class.”

Six froze. Zero… Zero was fighting for him? Zero knew his _test scores_?

“Zero’s right,” Jesse said, wrapping his arms around Six and hugging him close. “Tiny belongs with us.”

“Don’t get us wrong,” Aurek added, “Rex would look after him, but we’ve been looking out for the kid for months already.”

Jango raised his eyebrows. “You’re already a squad of eleven,” he observed mildly.

Zero smirked. “What’s one more? At least Tiny’s quiet. As long as he eats, he’s no trouble.”

“I reckon from that video footage that he can keep up with us on exercises,” One added.

“You do realise that 611 Squad hasn’t been disbanded yet?” Jango pointed out.

“With all due respect, sir, you know as well as I do that Five isn’t going to live,” Six said, suddenly sick of the pretence. “There’s too much uncertainty about his recovery. The Long-Necks won’t deem him to be worth the gamble.”

Jango’s expression tightened, and his gaze became shrewd.

“Quiet, you said?” he said to Zero.

“Who wants a medic who won’t stand his ground?” Three asked reasonably. “Tiny stands up for himself, and for anyone else who needs it.”

Jango sat down in one of the seats vacated by Named Squad, and 559 sat back down too. He met Six’s eyes. “You’re right, Tiny… oh, you don’t like it?”

Six shrugged. “It’s a way to tell me and Six apart,” he admitted, “but no. But it’s better than being called ‘6116’ all the time. You can use it, sir.”

“For now, then. And you _are_ right about Five. I wish you weren’t, but as you say, they can’t be certain about his recovery. Some of the more… no, that’s not right – the less clinical doctors have pushed for a reassessment in the morning, but they won’t be able to push back the inevitable forever. It would be less cruel just getting it over and done with.

“If you’re all determined about this, I’m going to have to run a couple of training exercises with you tomorrow, to make sure that 5591 is right and that you are able to keep up and make this work.”

He sighed. “It would be much easier for you to slot into 756. They’ve got space for you.”

Six shook his head. “They’re right, sir. This is my squad. They have been for a while now.”

Jango rubbed at his temples with one large hand. “The Long-Necks aren’t going to like it, but okay. For now. It’s a trial, pending the results of the exercises. After that, well, I’m sure you’ll work it out between you.”

Six felt something lift in his chest – some pressure that had been building all afternoon. He felt kilos lighter. They would make this work, he knew.

Jango waved a hand at the door. “Go, before I come back to my senses.”

“Thank you, sir,” Six said as he passed the seat Jango was occupying.

They almost made it to the door before Jango called out after them: “Oh, and, Tiny?”

Six turned back, worried that he had changed his mind already, that twelve was truly ridiculous after all.

“Yes, sir?”

“Two things: one; you might be thankful for knowing about Pantoran Swelling Sickness one day. Trust me, it sucks.

“Second; pick another name, before that one sticks.”

Six felt himself smile. “Yes, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god, I have to get Kix his name soon. It's driving me nuts, having to go back and keep correcting all the 'K's to 'S's...
> 
> And keeping him and 5596 straight is maddening. At least 5596 is getting his name in the very foreseeable future. I've had it lined up for _ages_.


	7. Six Names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author's sanity is restored (!) and a misleading title is deliberately misleading.

The squad was jubilant as they went back to the barracks, and Six let them sweep him along, both in direction and mood. They sat him down and got him playing sabaac. Rex was definitely going to be good at this. The rules themselves were simple enough, and Six had the different hand combinations memorised within minutes. But it was more about strategy and reading one’s opponents.

Six found he was pretty good at that, something that dismayed a lot of his new squad-mates, but didn’t actually surprise them. Not after knowing him so long. It was a medic thing – he needed to know his squad-mates better than they knew themselves, to know when they were hiding things.

Jesse was an appalling player: he was good at strategy, but he broadcast his hand too well. Everyone picked up his tells, and he grinned through every loss.

By the time the game wound up, Aurek having cleared everyone out of their tokens, Six couldn’t stop himself from yawning. Even though he had slept earlier, it seemed like so long ago. He looked round the room at the five sets of bunks – exactly like 611’s barrack was – and once again found himself wondering about where people slept. They were a squad of twelve, with only ten bunks.

Jesse dragged him to his feet. “You okay with sharing with me again?” he asked with a… a shy smile. Six got the impression that his cheerful friend was worried about being told ‘no’.

Six nodded. He had slept well with Jesse’s warmth beside him, Jesse’s arm over him, holding him close. It was a nice feeling; it had warmed him right down to his spirit.

Relief flooded Jesse’s face. Together, they perched on the edge of Jesse’s bunk and stripped off their boots. Carefully, Jesse lay down, his back to the wall, and Six curled against him, his back to Jesse’s front, as they had been earlier.

Tomorrow was going to be difficult, certainly – while Six knew he was a lot faster than his squa… former squadmates, 559 were a lot bigger than him. A lot taller, longer legged, stronger, and it would be a whole different challenge to push himself to their level.

But that was tomorrow, and Jesse and Zero would make sure it went smoothly. Right now, he was warm and secure and he could see Aurek and Besh curled up together too. That made him feel a little better, a little less like he and Jesse were doing something unusual. Not that he would have cared particularly; Jesse’s warmth was just so wonderful, and the feel of him breathing – the movement of his chest, the puff of warm air ruffling his hair. Perfect.

 

.oOo.

 

“Time to get up.”

“You sound like thunder,” Six mumbled as he tried to summon the energy to open his eyes.

The room erupted into laughter, and the warmth at his back shook.

“He’s right, you know,” Jesse’s voice said, the warmth curling around Six’s ear. “It’d be a good name for you.”

5596 made a rumbling noise of vague disapproval. “Not sure. Maybe I should ask Lingo what it is in Aurebesh.”

“It’s orar in Mando’a,” Six said as he tried to burrow into Jesse. He was hard, but that was fairly normal among his brothers, to wake up like that. Even Six did on the odd occasion. But Jesse groaned and twisted his hips. That had Six wide awake and shifting to the edge of the bunk to sit up. Jesse’s discomfort outweighed his own desire for warmth.

“Orar?” 5596 repeated, as if he were testing the sound of it. “Yeah, I like that.”

Six reached for his boots. “Does that mean you’ll stop calling me Tiny now?” he asked the others.

Orar ruffled his hair. “Sorry, Tiny. No can do. It’s like Jango said – pick a name yourself if you want us to stop.”

“I still have a number,” Six grumbled. “It’s not like you’re using it any more, Six.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Aurek said, grinning as he slouched against the wall. “You give Orar a name so that you can have your number back?”

Six was glad that he knew that Aurek was teasing him, because otherwise he might take offence. Having a name was special enough – _giving_ a brother a name that he accepted was a privilege. An honour.

“Do you _want_ your number back?” Four asked him, his brow tightening as he contemplated Six from across the room. “I mean, even your… even 661 called you ‘Tiny’.”

Six considered it. He had acquired the nickname so that he could be distinguished from 5596 – Orar – in conversation. That wasn’t necessary any longer, but Six found that while he didn’t exactly like his nickname, it was at least _his_. The younger clones were referred to as ‘tinies’, but no-one over the age of five or so. No-one except him.

“No,” he said finally. “Not really.”

“Brothers, we need to add finding Tiny a name onto the agenda for this morning,” Zero announced. “Jesse, Tiny, grab some fresher time and be back here in five. I want to discuss tactics for the exercises, since failure isn’t an option today.”

 

.oOo.

 

They each had a notification that they had been allowed the morning to help integrate their new squad member. Zero breathed a sigh of relief when Three pointed it out (being the first to check his datapad), and promptly got Jesse to hack the instructors’ system and book them a practice room.

The first thing Zero had them doing was speed tests, because seeing Six on a recording was one thing, but they needed to be able to compare his speed and endurance to the rest of the squad.

“You are really kriffing quick, Tiny,” One said as he and Zero watched Jesse and Aurek try to keep up with Six (no-one else was even bothering). “How long can you keep that up?”

Six slowed to a more sedate run, and tried not to smile as there were twin groans of relief behind him. “Not that long,” he admitted. “A few minutes, maybe?”

“Our two Sixes,” Besh chuckled: “Thunder and Lightning.”

Six stopped abruptly. The thought was amusing, and very touching but, like Orar, the Basic word didn’t seem to fit.

“What is it in Mando’a?” Four asked, sensing his hesitation.

“Tra’nau,” Nine replied.

No, that didn’t fit either. Six suddenly felt deflated: he liked the idea of his name being something related to a skill rather than something that hopefully wouldn’t be relevant in a few months’ time.

Jesse put an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll get Lingo’s help,” he said easily. “Named are right next door, doing the same as us – why don’t we go ask?”

Six shook his head. “It’s not the most important thing right now.”

“Sure it is.” Eight didn’t often speak up, which let him observe a lot more than others. “It’s bugging you, and that’s not good for squad cohesion.”

Zero chuckled. “He’s right, Tiny. Let’s go interrupt their practice.”

 

.oOo.

 

As it turned out, Named Squad welcomed the invasion of their older brothers – particularly because of the reason. They too had been bandying about names for their new squad-mates, with little success.

“Lightning?” Lingo repeated, as 6119 agreed that it fit his speedy little ex-squad-mate. “It’s ‘fulgar’ in High Aurebesh.”

Six scowled again. “Is there a language where it’s shorter?” he asked, to universal amusement.

“How about Iridonian?” Lingo said after a few moments’ thought. “It’s ‘kix’.”

Jesse laughed harder at that. “Suits him down to the ground – kid kicks in his sleep.”

Six had liked it even before Jesse had spoken – it was close enough to the number he had grown up hearing that he wasn’t likely to take much time getting used to it, but it was still a name: one given to him by his brothers. A dual meaning was even better.

Except, that probably meant he had kicked Jesse, and kept him awake. He could feel himself flushing with shame.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Jesse enveloped him in a hug. “It’s okay. If I minded, I’d have said something before. And it’s probably just bad dreams because of what happened.”

If it was, Six didn’t remember. But it wouldn’t surprise him if that were the case: he’d heard other clones talk about frightening dreams after their brothers had disappeared, of been injured during a sim.

And Jesse clearly didn’t mind – he was still right there, at Kix’s side. And he probably would be for as long as their instructors allowed. Which meant they had to pass whatever was thrown at them today.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you're enjoying so far. Feel free to R&R, or leave kudos if you've enjoyed the story. I am without a beta reader (and, honestly, I'm far too impatient), so if you see a mistake, feel free to let me know.
> 
> Updates are not likely to be regular - it'll be whenever something strikes me. They're adorable, but my brain won't focus for long enough to write as much as I'd like, or they deserve.


End file.
